by Dee Davis
“You were working with George and with her.”
“Mother?” she asked as Avery circled his hand for more time.
“Yes. She betrayed me too, you know.”
“I do. But I didn’t, Daddy. I didn’t even know I had the formula until today.” The words came out before she had the chance to think about it, Avery and Harrison’s heads whipping around in tandem, their eyes full of surprise. If everything hadn’t been so horrifying it would have almost been funny.
“Prove that you’re loyal, Lexie,” her father urged, his voice softening. “Bring me the formula.”
“And you’ll let them go?”
“As easily as that, pumpkin.” He sounded almost jovial now, her sensory reaction to his use of her pet name discordant with the chaos of her emotions. “Bring me the formula, and I’ll let your boyfriend and his brother go.”
The transmission clicked and went dead.
Alexis felt as if she’d been dropped into some kind of fractured fairy tale where the evil king captures the prince and demands the princess give him up in order that he could live.
Only this wasn’t a story—this nightmare was real.
“That was really my father?” Alexis forced the words out, her hands shaking, her body threatening full revolt. “He’s alive?”
“Yes,” Avery confirmed, his hand still supporting her elbow. “Do you want to sit down?”
“No. I want to go to that warehouse. I want to save Tucker and Drake. I want to give him the stupid formula and be done with all of this.”
“You know that’s not possible,” Avery said, his fatherly tone beginning to wear thin.
“Anything is possible, Avery. And I should know better than most. My father—my dead father—has just placed Tucker’s life in my hands. So I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to let you tell me what I can and can’t do.” Anger rushed through her, chasing away her doubts and her fear. Tucker needed her. He was depending on her. And she wasn’t about to let him down. “Did you confirm where they are?” she asked, working to sort through the details of an idea forming in her mind.
“They’re still at the warehouse,” Harrison said. “But I’ve lost visual access. I did manage to confirm the location, though.”
“How long will it take us to get there?” she asked.
“I told you it’s better if you stay here. And even if I do let you go,” Avery said, his tone still uncompromising but his expression wavering, “we’re not going to give your father the formula.”
“I wasn’t thinking we would,” she agreed, reaching into the backpack. “But he doesn’t have to know that, does he?”
“You have a plan?” Avery asked, his eyes smiling, his capitulation complete.
Alexis squared her shoulders, her fingers closing around the journal as she drew strength from her mother’s words. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”
CHAPTER 28
You son of a bitch,” Tucker said, struggling against his bonds.
He and Drake had been strung up by the arms, the ropes suspended from the metal grating that formed the second story’s floor. His feet were bound, as were Drake’s. And his brother, after a failed attempt to take out one of the guards, was out cold. At least said guard had a bloodied nose and a black eye, thanks to the toe of his brother’s boot. He’d counted five men so far in addition to Baker. None that he recognized, and all of them carrying weapons.
He returned his attention to Baker, who had dropped the transmitter he’d been using to talk to Avery—and Alexis.
“Do you have any idea what you just did to her?” Tucker snarled, wishing he had a gun. Or a knife. Or just free hands. “She thought you were dead. She mourned you. Hell, she worshipped you. And then after everything you’ve already done to her, you just reappear and destroy her like that?”
“That’s one way of looking at it. But isn’t it also possible that I just gave her a gift? Her father resurrected. You’re right, you know—she did worship me.”
“So you blew her up.”
Baker shrugged. “I’m a practical man. Her mother was threatening to leave me.”
“So to prevent that, you faked your own death and killed your whole family? Seems like a little bit of an overreaction to an affair.”
“George was my friend, so it was more than just an affair. It was full-fledged betrayal. But that wasn’t why I blew up the house. Ginny was threatening to go public if I didn’t let her go and take the children with her. I couldn’t risk that. It was just easier if the whole thing died a natural death. Don’t you see, it had to be the whole family. That way there wouldn’t be anyone to question whether or not I might still be alive.”
“But George wasn’t there.”
“No.” Baker’s eyes narrowed in anger. “He wasn’t. Pity that. He was always a meddling fool. First taking my wife. And then my formula.”
“But if he’d already taken the formula, I don’t understand why it took you so long to exact your revenge.”
“By revenge you mean blowing him to bits?” Baker asked, dropping the transmitter into a bag, his shoulders radiating anger. “I didn’t kill him because he had the formula. Fool that I am, I didn’t even realize he’d taken it until after the son of a bitch was dead.”
“So what was the motive? His betrayal? Seems to me you could have taken care of that a long time ago.”
“It had nothing to do with my wife,” he said, waving his hand in dismissal. “George figured out I was alive. I couldn’t risk him going public with that little tidbit. So I had to take care of him.”
“Only then it turned out he’d taken the formula,” Tucker mused. “I’ll admit there’s a certain irony to that. Must have really pissed you off to find out he’d played you for a fool.”
“The joke was definitely on me. All this time I’d thought it was safe. And when I decided to sell it, I didn’t even bother to look. Just made the deal and then discovered the microchip I’d been holding in my vault contained nothing but an old article I’d written about nuclear fission. It wasn’t my finest hour. And I’ve been doing the quickstep ever since. But, thanks to my daughter, it looks like it’s all going to work out anyway.”
Tucker realized that Baker’s admissions indicated he wasn’t planning to let them go. But then Baker hadn’t ever dealt with Avery. And so he’d keep Baker talking.
“Why the bombs? Seems there are easier ways to kill people.”
“I’ve never been very good with firearms,” Baker said. “But as a chemist I’m pretty good at making things go boom. The first time it wasn’t really a full-fledged bomb, but after that, well, let’s just say I upped the ante.”
“The first time?” Tucker asked, still playing for time. “You’re talking about Wallace, right? I still don’t understand why you killed him.”
“I seem to have surrounded myself with people of conscience. He also wanted to go public. And I felt like there were other, more lucrative options. I tried to reason with him, but Duncan was never really good at seeing the big picture.”
“And the bomb at George’s cabin,” Tucker asked, still playing for time, “it wasn’t meant for Alexis?”
“No. I didn’t even know she was alive. I just wanted to get rid of the place. It was a symbol for everything George took from me. He and my wife met there, you know. To carry out their affair. So after I searched it, I destroyed it. I knew there was someone there—that’s why I beat a hasty retreat—but it never occurred to me that it was Alexis.”
“But you did try to kill her. What about the failed bomb at her house?”
“I wasn’t trying to kill Lexie. I tried to destroy her house to keep Carmichael and his men from getting too close. To her and to me. I had no way of knowing if she had something that might link to me. So after making certain the formula wasn’t there, I set the bomb to destroy the place.”
“But she was there,” Tucker said. “In New Orleans. In the house.”
“I know that—now. And anyway, I never got the chance
to set the thing off, so no harm, no foul.” He held up a hand in halfhearted apology.
“And my brother’s house?”
It was Baker’s turn to frown. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The bomb you set off at Sunderland. You almost killed Alexis and my brother’s wife. We found your fingerprint on the bomb.”
Baker’s jaw tightened, both anger and surprise reflected in his expression. “There must be some other explanation.” He shot a look at the men standing guard, his fingers tightening into a fist. “It wasn’t me.”
“So who else could it have been?” Tucker asked, sensing an opening. “Carmichael is dead.”
Again, surprise flashed across his face, but he covered it almost as quickly as it had surfaced. “Good riddance. The man has been a thorn in my side for over twenty years.”
“What about the people you promised the formula? Maybe they’re setting you up?”
Again he glanced over at the guards. “Impossible. They came to me and offered their help. Why would they want to set me up?”
“Maybe to tie up loose ends? We take you, and they walk away unscathed.”
“Except that I’m holding you hostage, and in short order, will be in possession of the formula.”
“These people—they’re part of the Consortium, right?” Tucker asked, still trying to fit this latest piece of information into the puzzle. The Consortium certainly had an ax to grind with A-Tac. But setting up Baker didn’t make sense. Unless all of this was meant to be a trap.
“I have no idea what they call themselves. I just know they were willing to pay me a hell of a lot of money for the formula. The only person I ever dealt with was a man named Alain DuBois.”
Full circle stop. It seemed everything came back to DuBois.
“Well, I don’t know what they told you, but according to the evidence, you’re the man who set that bomb. You should just be thankful Madeline and your daughter survived.”
“None of this matters,” Baker said, almost to himself, clearly unmoved by his daughter’s plight. “Whoever set this chain in motion, I have the upper hand now. I have you and your brother. And my daughter is on her way with the formula. And once I have it, then I can complete the bargain I made with DuBois. No need to sacrifice anyone. Except maybe the two of you.”
“Not if I have a say in it,” Drake said, sputtering with anger as he came to. “The minute I’m free, you’re a dead man.”
“Okay, Baker,” Avery said into his com unit as he and Alexis stood outside the warehouse. “We’re here. Now what?”
“Well, ideally you’ll leave Lexie and all go home,” her father said, his voice sounding tinny coming from the little receiver. “But I’m guessing that’s not going to happen.”
“Not until we have our people back—including Alexis.”
“Actually, that wasn’t part of the deal. But I’ll take it under advisement.” He sounded almost cheerful, and for a moment Alexis was transported back to the time when he was just her father, not a crazy, murdering bomber with a God complex. “Right now I want you and your people to stand down and then send Lexie in.”
“Not by herself,” Avery insisted, even as Alexis shook her head.
“Your call,” her father said. “But I’m going to start counting. If she’s not in here by the time I get to fifteen, Flynn dies. Oh, dear, should have clarified. Tucker Flynn dies. One… two…” The transmitter went dead.
Alexis reached out to grab his arm. “I can do it. Besides, you can’t expect me to just stand here and let him kill Tucker.”
“No,” Avery conceded, “I suppose not. But I want you to keep to the script we agreed to. No deviations, okay?”
She nodded. “I promise. Trust me. I’ve got as much riding on this as anyone—except maybe Madeline. I’m not going to screw it up.”
“If anything happens and you get hurt—”
“Nothing is going to happen. He’s my father. I don’t believe he’ll let anything happen to me.”
“But he’s already tried to kill you.”
“In absentia. Never face-to-face. And besides, you guys are going to have my back.”
“Seven,” the transmitter crackled to life. “Eight.”
“I’m going in.” She started forward, hands raised, not feeling particularly brave but determined to do everything in her power to rescue Drake and Tucker. Even if it meant facing her father.
The pertinent page from her mother’s journal was folded and taped beneath her sports bra along with the microchip. Even with a pat-down no one would be able to feel it. Eventually she’d be forced to produce it, but in the meantime she’d use the actual journal, which she was holding in her hand, as a decoy. Sort of a double bait and switch—if everything went as planned.
At the top of the steps Alexis paused for a moment to suck in a fortifying breath, then stepped into the warehouse. She blinked, trying to focus, her eyes not adjusted to the dim light. But before she had the time to adapt, her father’s goons were there, grabbing the journal and doing the rudimentary pat-down. No weapon. And no discovery.
So far, so good.
One of the men led her forward, his gun in her side, and as her vision adapted to the lower light, she saw Tucker and Drake strung up from the rafters. Anger lashed through her, her eyes flashing as she whirled around, looking for the man who had caused all of this. The man whom she’d once called “father.”
“Lexie.” It was almost as if no time had passed at all. And when he turned, her heart literally skipped a beat, and she wondered how it was possible to hate someone she had once loved so dearly.
He was her father. The man who’d held her when she’d had a bad dream. Comforted her after she’d had a fall. Kept her safe from monsters under the bed. He’d been her hero. And now she was being forced to face the reality that he’d been the monster all along.
“I told you never to trust them,” he said, tipping his head toward Tucker, who was watching her intently, his eyes full of love.
She fought her fear. All she had to do was buy Avery time. “You were wrong about that. Turns out you were wrong about a lot of things.”
“I didn’t want you to die. You have to know that.” For a moment she almost believed him—and then she saw his eyes. They were hollow. Cold. There was no sign of remorse. “It was your mother,” he continued. “She gave me no choice.”
“So you killed her and Frank and if it hadn’t been for Mike Kennedy, you’d have killed me too.” She clenched her fists, wishing she’d brought a gun even though she knew she’d never be able to use it.
“Who is Mike Kennedy?” Her father asked with a frown.
“Nobody, really. Just the boy I snuck out to see that night. If I hadn’t taken the chance, I’d have died too. And you’d have won.”
“But don’t you see, darling? I’ve won anyway.” He waved a hand toward Drake and Tucker. “So what have you brought me?” he asked, taking the journal the guard offered.
Alexis took the moment while he leafed through the book to glance surreptitiously around the warehouse, looking for signs that the team was in place. From the second floor she thought maybe she saw movement, but nothing definite. Nothing to confirm that it was time.
“What the hell is this?” her father asked, waving the journal through the air. “There’s nothing here but Ginny’s whining about her life and her precious George. Where’s my formula?”
“You didn’t think I’d just hand it over, did you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” he asked, clearly surprised at the question. “You’re my daughter. My blood.”
Tucker growled something, but one of the guards silenced him.
“I don’t belong to anyone. And for the record, my father, the man I thought I knew—he died that night in Walsenburg. You may look and sound just like him, but you’re not my father.”
For a moment she thought her words had broken through. That there was still some kind of bond between them, but he shook it off w
ith the ease of a duck shedding water, and she knew for certain that she’d spoken the truth.
Her father was dead.
“Where is the formula?” he repeated, nodding to one of his guards. Behind them, near the railing that bordered the second floor, Alexis saw Annie. Her friend tilted her head toward the adjacent side of the warehouse, and Alexis shifted her gaze, glancing up quickly to see Nash standing behind a pillar in the shadows.
“I’ve got it,” she said, working to sound resigned, as if she’d given in. “I just wanted to be sure you honored your end of the bargain.” She nodded toward Tucker and Drake. “To set them free.”
“I want the formula first.”
“Fine,” she said, reaching into her shirt to pull it from her bra. “Come and get it.” She held the page up, her eyes meeting Tucker’s over her father’s shoulder.
“Is this another trick?” Her father frowned. “That looks like your mother’s writing.”
“It is,” she said. “It’s the last page from the journal. It’s the clue to where George hid the formula. It was in Mother’s book. You know, by Mary Stewart. Airs Above the Ground. It was her favorite.”
“You’re lying,” he said. “The book was destroyed in the explosion. Everything was.”
Off to the right, she could see Simon behind a stack of crates, and to the left, a little farther back, Avery.
“Except for me,” she said, working to keep her father’s attention on her. His men stood by idly, unaware that they were slowly being surrounded. “And the things I had with me. I had a book report due that day at school. And I’d forgotten to do it. So I grabbed Mom’s book off the table and took it with me. I figured she’d read it to me so many times I could write a report in my sleep. And I kept it all these years because it reminded me of her. Of home. Of my family.”
“I still don’t see why you brought the page here.”
Above her Annie nodded, leveling her sniper rifle.
“Because it proves I’m telling you the truth about this.” She reached into her bra again and produced the tiny chip, adding it to the journal sheet she had in her hand.